A few months ago I walked into a hospital and met a doctor who stood out.

He was patient. He listened carefully. He explained things clearly. He treated people with real concern. I left that day thinking, At least we still have people like this.

Months later I went back looking for him.

He has left the country.

Just like that. Another skilled Nigerian gone.

I felt disappointed, but not angry. Because I understood. Better opportunities, better conditions, a chance at a life that doesn’t constantly feel like survival. Who can blame him?

And now I’m sitting with the same question.

Should I feel guilty for even thinking about leaving?

Because right now the decision feels exactly like being stuck between the devil and the deep blue sea.

Stay, and keep fighting in a system that keeps breaking the people who try to fix it.  

Leave, and become another name on the list of those who abandoned ship.

Either way, something is lost.

I keep hearing people say patriotism means staying no matter what. But I’m not sure I buy that anymore. Loving this country shouldn’t mean agreeing to suffer indefinitely. Patriotism shouldn’t be measured by how much hardship I can endure.

We have limited time left.  

I’m not talking about Nigeria’s age. I’m talking about my own years. The ones I still have to build something, to breathe, to live without constantly calculating the cost of every decision.

I don’t have a perfect answer.  

I only know this: if Nigeria remains a place where staying feels like a sacrifice and leaving feels like betrayal, then too many of us will keep drowning in that same impossible choice.

I want a country where I can stay without feeling like I’ve chosen the devil…  

and leave without feeling like I’ve chosen the deep blue sea.

Until then, the question will keep sitting heavy on my chest:

Should I feel guilty… or should I just choose life?